


An Air Mattress, Dean?

by Alchemist14



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Difficult Hunt, Sam Winchester is So Done, Tired Dean, air mattress, confused cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 16:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28531365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alchemist14/pseuds/Alchemist14
Summary: It has been a very long day for the Winchesters, Dean in particular, and they can't wait to pass out in their motel room. It's never that easy though is it?Another one from the memory stick :DBased off this prompt - Sharing an air mattress, one is nearly fast asleep, the other person is so tired they flop down and catapult the first person into the air.
Kudos: 10





	An Air Mattress, Dean?

Dean dragged his body up the concrete stairs of the motel they had picked to crash at for the night. The muscles in his shoulders were cramping something awful as he lifted them to grab onto the handrail and heave himself up another step. It was just past twelve and most rooms were empty of people, either checked out or gone to find somewhere for lunch, and he was internally thankful that there was no one around to witness his humiliation. Scratch that, almost no one. He could hear his moose of a brother slamming the door to the impala, and he winced in despair at the thought of the damage being done to his baby and attempted to speed up his pace a little more. It was a matter of urgency that he get into the room first and snag the best bed, goodness only knew he deserved it after the night he’d had.

He fished in his pocket desperately when he finally reached their door, leaning his head against the wood with a thud and closing his eyes tiredly. Why could he not find that damn key, it’s not like it was small or anything, just like most crappy little motels this one had handed over a giant wooden cactus with a tiny key attached to it. So it was nothing short of a miracle that he had managed to lose it in his trouser pocket.

“Dean,” his brother muttered from behind him in exasperation, “I told you to wait for me.”

“Sammy, I lost the key Sammy.” He mumbled into the door sadly, dreading the trip back down the stairs to retrace his steps, or even worse, to visit the front desk and ask the sulky teenager for another key, and probably part with some ridiculous number of dollars.

“You didn’t lose anything Dean,” there was no ignoring the amusement in Sam’s voice this time and he twisted slightly to give him an expectant glare. “You’re out of it so I took the key, you never had it in the first place, and that’s why I told you to wait.”

“Just open the door bitch.” He growled, way too tired for this shit.

“Alright, jerk. Move aside.”

Dean stumbled to the side and pressed his back flat against the wall between the two rooms for support. Glaring dolefully at his snickering brother as he finally unlocked the last barrier between him and a devilishly soft mattress where he could just sleep.

Tripping over his own feet, he followed Sam into the room and watched dazedly as the taller man lobbed their holdalls on the closest bed and yanked a flannel shirt and some tracksuit bottoms out. He chucked both at his brother’s head and snorted when the other man simply blinked in confusion with a t-shirt hooked on his ear. “Get changed and get into bed, you’re like a zombie. I’ll call Cas and let him know where we are.”

“Mmph,” he groaned in response, brushing an uncoordinated hand across his face to get rid of the tickly annoyance that had hit it, and simply flopped gracelessly face first onto the empty bed. It was almost as if he were a tree that someone had taken an axe to and felled, not even bothering to straighten himself out before toppling.

A long, low moan cut through the room, “Oh God Sammy, bed, so good, s’good.”

The bitch face was out in full force as Sam took in the sight of his brother fully dressed and flat out on the bed, despite the fact he had provided him with perfectly good sleep clothes. “You going to sleep?” he asked, sinking to sit on the edge of his own bed and raising an eyebrow at the older man.

“Damn straight. Screw consciousness, that’s what I say. With a bed like this, who could resist?”

Not five minutes later and soft snorting, snuffling noises were emanating from that corner of the room, and Sam rolled his eyes before giving a soft, fond smile at the familiar sound. Glancing back at his laptop, he couldn’t help but be thankful that his brother was able to sleep that soundly after the night and morning that they’d had.

* * *

“Dammit Sammy, shoot it already!” Dean shouted, feet dangling in the air from where he was being held against the tree by the neck. Kicking and scrabbling in an attempt to find purchase he felt his lungs running out of air, black spots beginning to dance a floaty waltz before his eyes.

It had all been going so well for the two brothers on this particular hunt, something that had become much of a rarity lately. That should really have been when alarm bells started ringing Dean supposed morosely, watching beads of rain forging tracks down the window of the impala, as they sat outside the dark two storey house they were staking out. They had rolled into town this morning to the familiar comforting roar of his baby, parked her neatly out the front of a welcoming diner and stuffed himself with a stack of pancakes and bacon while ribbing Sammy for his bowl of oatmeal.

  
Questioning the locals had been a doddle, small town like this one was all for the spooky conspiracy theories and old cautionary tales that had haunted them for generations. So, unexplained disappearances and a few mutilated bodies later and they were practically foaming at the mouth for someone new to gossip to, Dean loved those types. After the third little old lady that was practically being eaten by her shawl, he finally had a good enough idea of what exactly they were facing and where its lair was, that he could call Sam with the self-assured confidence of having been the first to work it out.

His thumb hovered over the call button, Sam’s contact highlighted in blue when his phone began to vibrate violently. He nearly jumped out of his skin, flinging his phone forwards in shock and juggling it desperately to stop it hitting the floor, Sam would kill him if he broke another phone when he hadn’t even been flung across a room this time. Finally getting a secure grip on the device, he took a moment to exhale and calm his rapidly beating heart before getting a good look at who was ringing him.

“For god’s sake Sam!” he cursed, pressing accept and lifting the phone to his ear, “what?”

“Dean, so get this, there’s a forest out to the East of town that fits the bill, I think we should head over there now.” Sam’s voice emanated seriously from the tinny little speaker and Dean couldn’t help but to roll his eyes in frustration.

“I know Sammy, I was just about to ring you and tell you the exact same thing, meet there in ten.”

Five hours later, night had fallen, and the temperature dropped below freezing Dean would wager, if the lack of feeling in his toes was to be trusted, and they were still traipsing their way through the surprisingly large patch of woods. They had yet to find any trace of anything strange and he had tripped over no less than five tree roots, to Sam’s great amusement, he could only put it down to tiredness since he wasn’t usually so clumsy.

The next moment he was lying on his back in the dirt, blinking dazedly up at the stars and utterly clueless as to how he had ended up in this position.

“DEAN!”

Hearing the sheer panic in his brother’s voice was the only thing that could have snapped him back to awareness that quickly and he shot to his feet, ignoring the sparks of discomfort that shot through his spine. Already slipping his trusty Colt from its holster and thumbing the safety off, he crept forward using the trees around for cover. Pressing his back to the bark he peered around carefully and gritted his teeth at the sight of Sam sprawled on the floor, much the same as he was a few seconds ago, the only difference being he had a slavering beast hovering above him, snapping needle sharp teeth uncomfortably close to his vulnerable neck.

“Hey ugly!” He roared, spinning out from his hiding place and grinning ferally as the beast turned towards him and he levelled his gun at it. With a gentle squeeze he fired and felt a grim satisfaction at the yelp that followed, knowing his aim was true and it was now suffering from a bullet wound to the thigh.

“Oh shit,” unfortunately, and really, he should have seen this coming he thought as his grin dropped from his face, one bullet was not enough to take down whatever this thing was. So, he did the only thing he could think of, he ran. He had no set plan in mind, he just ducked and weaved his way between the trunks hoping to outwit it long enough to find a vantage point from which to gank it.

Dean exploded into a clearing, cursing his luck that after hours of fumbling around and looking, he finally found one at the worst possible time. With wide eyes he pivoted on one heel and emptied his gun into the monster. There was a brief silence. The next moment he was soaring through the air and slamming none too gently against a tree, feeling like there was an invisible hand squeezing his throat and cutting off his air supply. With a few seconds to actually contemplate the thing they’d been chasing, he was able to see that it seemed to be a cross between a hellhound and a wendigo, they had never seen the like.

Sam finally appeared silently on the periphery of the clearing, face marred by a giant purpling bruise that stretched from his cheekbone to forehead and promised to bloom into a beautiful patchwork of colours the next day. It was only now that he wasn’t the focus of its attention that he could take a moment to see what it was that was chasing them. It had the tall skeletal frame of a Wendigo, but its head was distinctly more like that of a panther with the teeth of a vampire and the claws of a hell hound. It was like some hellish amalgam of his worst nightmares, all that was missing was the blood red lips and nose of a carnival clown and he would be legging it. There had been no mention of a beast like this in their dad’s journal and even after years of hunting together, this was a new one on them. It was almost as if some crazy scientist had spliced things together and made a new creature altogether.

Dean could feel the air draining from his lungs as the grip around his neck tightened further. What on earth was his stupid sasquatch of a brother doing! His colt was right there beside him on the ground, and he still had possession of his own sawn-off shotgun as well as the knife that he always had stuck down the side of his boot. So why was he just standing there like a lemon and watching him suffocate? He’d already emptied a clip into it so it should go down relatively easily if he’d just make a move!

“Dammit Sammy, shoot it already!’ He shouted across to his brother, black beginning to seep in at the edges of his vision and eyes beginning to roll up into the back of his head as he struggled.

A shot echoed throughout the clearing, and the beast squealed in anguish as it died, its heavy-set body keeling over with a solid thump. Dean, finally released, slumped bonelessly to the ground like an abandoned puppet with its strings cut, gasping noisily for air.

“Dean.” Sam rushed to his side, one massive palm clutching his shoulder to roll him gently onto his back, bringing his other hand to grip his brother’s other shoulder, he gave him a gentle shake. “Dean! Are you alright?”

“Just peachy,” he rasped back, coughing slightly at his raw throat. Rubbing his throat, he couldn’t hold back a grimace. It was going to swell and bruise like a bitch and he wasn’t looking forward to the next few days of aching and breathlessness.

Sam extended his hand with a wry grin and a slight tilt of the head that bordered on a shake. Dean accepted the familiar gesture of assistance and let the other pull him to his feet, possibly a little too enthusiastically as he stumbled slightly once upright, and practically collapsed into his brother’s chest as he brought him in for a hug and slap on the back.

“Let’s get you to a bed before you fall on your face, although that might actually end up being an improvement.” Sam smirked as he looped Dean’s arm around his neck, and they limped slowly back to the impala.

“Very funny, bitch, stop talking and start walking.”

Needless to say, by the time they had hobbled to the car and driven to the nearest motel, they were both more than exhausted and completely ready to collapse into bed. After their little charade at the door, Dean hadn’t had any energy left in his body to protest at the crappy music Sam had turned on low. He was asleep in seconds.

* * *

_“Ahh pie, love me some pie. Just a coffee, a double bacon cheeseburger, some hash browns, fries and a slice of cherry, no mud, no no lemon meringue! Scratch that, just give me a slice of each and tonnes of ice cream.” Dean rattled off his familiar, favourite order in a matter of seconds, hardly pausing for breath in his haste to get his sweet, sweet reward._

_Turning around he leant back casually, elbows propped on the bar to survey the chattering people around the room. Low notes of I Can’t Dance by Genesis permeating the air from the jukebox in the corner, mixing with the crack of pool cues against balls and the hum of patrons chatting. He spotted his giant nerd of a brother sequestered in the very corner of a booth, shaggy head bent low over another ancient text and he knew when he went to sit opposite him, he would look up and shoot him a goofy grin. Would say ‘so get this,’ or rattle off some random fact about blood sucking monsters or something and he would pretend he didn’t understand or already know, while gorging himself on food. The only thing missing here was Cas, but he would be here in about half an hour when he finished running the car back to the Bunker, and his little family would be all together again for a perfect night out._

* * *

“Argh!” Dean yelled out as all of a sudden, his body became weightless, soaring ungainly through the air and crashing to the ground with a loud thump. “What the hell!” he shouted, propping himself up on his elbows and glaring over his shoulder, flat on his stomach and rubbing the sleep roughly from his eyes.

“Whazzit, whasappenin?” Sam shot up in bed, eyes half lidded and hazy as he was dragged from sleep by the commotion on the other side of the room. Peering across to where his brother had collapsed earlier, his vision cleared enough to see the top of his brother’s dusty blonde head peeking over the edge of the bed and Cas leaning over awkwardly above him from his place splayed out on the mattress. He had seen enough to know it wasn’t worth getting involved, and so he rolled over, putting his back towards them, resolving to just go back to sleep and let the two idiots sort it out.

“Cas! What the hell man!” Dean repeated emphatically, craning his neck back to meet his friend’s blue eyes, all he could see of the other man’s face as he leant over the side of the bed.

“Hello Dean,” the angel greeted in his usual gruff tone, “I regret the consequences of my actions, I did not intend to er, eject you from your bed. I admit I don’t quite understand how that happened.”

Dean couldn’t help the huff that escaped, equal parts aggravated and reluctantly amused by the situation they found themselves in. He pushed himself slowly to his feet, staggering slightly on sleep numbed legs and plonking himself down on the mattress, smiling as it bounced Cas up and down gently.

Castiel looked down in puzzlement at the mattress, “Dean, why is this bed… bouncing?”

“It’s an air mattress Cas, you push on side and the air gets displaced to the other. That’s why when you just flopped down a minute ago, all the air shot to my side and I was catapulted into the air, you gotta get in these beds carefully.”

His head tilted slightly to the side as he continued to squint suspiciously downwards and push tentatively at the material. “I think I understand Dean, but why would humans want a bed made of air?”

“It’s ridiculously comfortable man, that’s why. Sleep in one of these and you’ll never get a good night’s sleep again, well, for a week at least.” Dean smirked, before waving a hand before him, “Now lie down, shut up and go to sleep. I am so beyond tired I can barely even string together a sentence, I have been through too much today!”

“What happened today?”

“Too much, pain, strangling, biting” Dean shuddered as he lay back and linked his fingers behind his head, closing his eyes and wiggling himself further into the body shaped wedge he had created.

Cracking one eye open as the bed started wobbling violently again, he watched as Cas hovered his palm up and down the length of his body, the familiar gentle golden glow lighting his palm from the inside. Two cool fingers were pressed to his brow and liquid warmth cascaded down his back, suffusing his body with a comforting heat and washing away the aches and pains. By the time the angel had finished healing him, Dean was barely holding onto consciousness by his fingernails, but he just managed to murmur a heartfelt “thanks Cas,” before he drifted off.

“Always, Dean.” Cas whispered. Gingerly easing himself to lying, he laced his fingers together and laid them on his lap as he began to meditate, the closest he could get to sleeping. Tomorrow would be another busy day for the Winchesters, but for now they could rest, safe in the knowledge that they were all together.


End file.
